Pablo Neruda 'Perhaps not to be is to be without your being.'
Perhaps not to be is to be without your being, without your going, that cuts noon light like a blue flower, without your passing later through fog and stones, without the torch you lift in your hand that others may not see as golden, that perhaps no one believed blossomed the glowing origin of the rose, without, in the end, your being, your coming suddenly, inspiringly, to know my life, blaze of the rose-tree, wheat of the breeze: and it follows that I am, because you are: it follows from 'you are', that I am, and we: and, because of love, you will, I will, We will, come to be.
Most stories end with "And they lived happily ever after" or at "And they were unhappy for the rest of their lives". This, however, was a story that started with "And then they were divorced.... "
When we tell the story of a marriage, we start at the nuptials (or maybe the courtship if we want to be all propah about it), and we end it at one of the following end points: the death of either spouse, the marriage of children or the flying of the nest, the separation and the subsequent reunion. And maybe, just maybe, at the divorce that does not lead to a reunion.
This, however, is a story that starts AT the divorce. After 15 years and 2 children, a couple decides to part ways. The play starts with the night of the divorce, coincidentally, also, the night of their 15th wedding anniversary..
And then, like a river, it meanders through the lives of those 2 protagonists as they deal with the separation, and continue to bump into each other in ways that co-parents must - the children, deaths in the family, so on..
This play is a classic must watch. If not for anything, just for Lubna Salim. She has enough stage presence to light up an entire stage by being in it. There is no other performer on stage - just these 2 - in Delhi, it was Harsh Chhaya and Lubna Salim.
The play also has Gulzar's poetry in his own voice - a treat, and extremely well selected - that poetry does a lot of story telling in the play.
Most people in the audience will identify with the play. We will all see slices of ourselves in those 2 characters.. its a rare performance that makes u uncomfortable in your seat. And in your comfort zone. This was one of those performances.
One of the Gulzar poems used in the play says "Rishte agar hum libaason ki tarah badal sakte... " but you see, thats not possible, not just bcs of shared children and logistics, but because... relationships are not bought off the shelf. They have to be woven bit by bit..
Multiple dialogues from the play come to mind. But here is the one that stayed the most:
Husband: All these years later, and still a bitch. Wife: Better than being a bithch-ari (bechari)
The play got a full hall standing ovation last night. And i woke up at 4 in the morning, thinking of the character of Lubna Salim.
As usual, there is a plan to give people a paid holiday to vote. But what most people end up doing is watching movies at home, finishing the monthly grocery shopping et al..
soo... methinks.. suppose, we make this a paid holiday, ONLY if you come back the following day and show your office the black ink mark. you can fake it of course, but at least some people might go to vote for the paid holiday.
i understand the logistics pain.. having someone in each floor to check the ink marks of employees.... how to know when someone has faked it.. but at least, it will get people thinking about why they have been given that holiday. and maybe, just maybe, a few of our great indian middle class will make its way to the polling booth.. leaving some of that apathy at home.. ?
right now, am just posting the youtube link... will post lyrics later..
these lines - tu zinda hai to zindagi ki jaat par yakeen kar.. have pulled one out of many, many dark moments.. should u get up and get working ? if u r still breathing, you should... :-)
it takes a lot of screen presence to stand in a room full of ppl - no props.. Dharmendra is among the few who could have pulled it off...
yaa dil kee suno duniyaawaalon yaa mujh ko abhee choop rahane do main gam ko khushee kaise kah doon jo kahate hain unako kahane do ye fool chaman mein kaisaa khilaa maalee kee najar mein pyaar nahee hasate huye kyaa kyaa dekh liyaa ab bahate hain aansoo bahane do ek khwaab khushee kaa dekhaa nahee dekhaa jo kabhee to bhool gaye maangaa huaa tum kuchh de naa sake jo tum ne diyaa wo sahane do kyaa dard kisee kaa legaa koee itanaa to kisee mein dard nahee bahate huye aansoo aaur bahe ab ayesee tasallee rahane do http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xurEkSMhWHQ
whether u r a woman dealing with her trishanku existence of modern and indian at the same time, or a man who has no idea why women behave so strangely... u will benefit fromreading this post..
every year, when i try to read more about the bravery awards winning children later in the year, there is nothing available.. so this time, one is going to record the stories for posterity...
national bravery awards 2012, and some of the stories.. if i was a journo.. this is the story i wld have liked to do...
I want you to know one thing. ... You know how this is: if I look at the crystal moon, at the red branch of the slow autumn at my window, if I touch near the fire the impalpable ash or the wrinkled body of the log, everything carries me to you, as if everything that exists, aromas, light, metals, were little boats that sail toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
Well, now, if little by little you stop loving me I shall stop loving you little by little.
If suddenly you forget me do not look for me, for I shall already have forgotten you.
If you think it long and mad, the wind of banners that passes through my life, and you decide to leave me at the shore of the heart where I have roots, remember that on that day, at that hour, I shall lift my arms and my roots will set off to seek another land.
But if each day, each hour, you feel that you are destined for me with implacable sweetness, if each day a flower climbs up to your lips to seek me, ah my love, ah my own, in me all that fire is repeated, in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten, my love feeds on your love, beloved, and as long as you live it will be in your arms without leaving mine.
Thank you: this gem was also found at the browsing corner group. :-)
"I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love"
I don’t love you as if you were a rose of salt, topaz, or arrow of carnations that propagate fire: I love you as one loves certain obscure things, secretly, between the shadow and the soul.
I love you as the plant that doesn’t bloom but carries the light of those flowers, hidden, within itself, and thanks to your love the tight aroma that arose from the earth lives dimly in my body.
I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where, I love you directly without problems or pride: I love you like this because I don’t know any other way to love, except in this form in which I am not nor are you, so close that your hand upon my chest is mine, so close that your eyes close with my dreams.
तुम बिस्तर पर साथ हो लेकिन यूँ लगता है... ... रात बिछा कर साहिल पर एक खामोश नदी को ताकता हूँ...
कहाँ गई वो कलकल बहती हंसी तुम्हारी कहाँ गए वो आबशार जो तुमने पैरों में बांधे थे कहाँ छुपा दी है तुमने वो चढ़ी हुई त्योरियां किस दराज में रख कर भूल गए हो अपनी आँखों के सूरज
उठो... देखो... बोलो... जानम ज़रा आँखें तो खोलो...
चुप हो तुम बहुत चुप...
कहाँ गई वो तितली जो मेरे कंधे पर उड़ आती थी कहाँ छुपाई तुमने वो पंखुड़ी जो होंठ मेरे छू जाती थी मेज़ पर यह चाबियों का छल्ला क्यों रख छोड़ा है तुमने इस घर को लावारिस सा क्यूँ छोड़ा है...
फिर हक़ से आओ न मेरी छोटी बातों पर... फिर झाल्लाओ न ख़त कितने भेजे हैं मैंने ख़त से लिपटो... ख़त में बैठो... ख़त से घर आ जाओ न...
आओ... देखो.. बोलो... मुझसे मिल कर चाहे रो लो...
चुप हो तुम बहुत चुप...
यह आसमान पर बंधी हुई चादर को खोलो घुटने लगा हूँ अब तन्हा मैं तुम अपनी बातों की सांसें खोलो...